Five Men
by Vol lady
Summary: Jarrod is caught in a running gun battle between two groups of men in Stockton and is forced to shoot back. When all is over, he has killed five young men, and their bosses - and his conscience - are after him.
1. Chapter 1

Five Men

Chapter 1

Jarrod looked at his watch and groaned. It was ten o'clock, and he'd promised to be home by seven. He intended to be, too, but working so hard on a brief for the Court of Appeals made him completely lose track of time. He was at a good breaking point now, though, so he put it aside, strapped on his gunbelt and donned his hat and suit jacket. In a few minutes he was stepping into the street and yawning.

The saloons were all still open and lively. He was giving thought to just stopping at Harry's and having a drink and something to eat when Sheriff Madden came up to him.

"Evening, Fred," Jarrod said.

"You're here kinda late, Jarrod," the sheriff said.

"Yeah, I lost track of time," Jarrod said. "Nothing new, huh?"

"Not for you."

"Things pretty quiet tonight?"

"So far. But if you're thinking of having a drink before you head home, you might want to do it now. Things are beginning to get noisy at all the saloons, and the moon is full."

Jarrod laughed. "You don't really believe things get crazier under a full moon, do you?"

"You'd be surprised how often that seems to be true," the sheriff said. "Maybe it's just because there's more light and men can get into trouble easier, but it does seem to happen."

"I think I'll just head home before the trouble breaks out," Jarrod said. "Good night, Fred."

"Night, Jarrod," the sheriff said and went on his way.

Jarrod crossed the street, heading for the livery stable. In a few minutes he was leading his horse out into the street and preparing to mount up. That's when the shooting broke out.

Jarrod could see it coming from Harry's saloon a couple blocks down the street. Two cowboys came stumbling out, shooting back inside, and then several more men came running out after them, all heading Jarrod's way. Sheriff Madden went running in that direction. Jarrod got his horse to a side alley and tethered him there, then he took a quick look around the corner. The running gun battle had already flattened the sheriff, but his deputy was running up to where he'd fallen. Jarrod drew his gun and stepped out to try to help get some control over things, but it was rapidly becoming too late.

"Stop right there!" Jarrod yelled as the two cowboys who'd first come out of the saloon reached him.

They both turned and fired on him.

Jarrod ducked back into the alley, firing as he did, and one of the cowboys dropped. The other one kept running up the street.

The others who had been chasing the two kept coming. Jarrod had no idea who had started this and didn't know who to go after at this point. But two of the newcomers began to fire at him.

"Stop it!" Jarrod yelled.

Jarrod took a stinging shot to the side of his neck and felt himself slammed up against the nearest building. He fired back and dropped two of the newcomers. The others began to fire at him.

Jarrod fired his last two shots at the men shooting at him, and he dropped two more men who were coming at him.

And then there were only three men left, and they all suddenly dropped their guns and raised their hands. Jarrod slowly climbed up, quickly pressing a handkerchief to his neck wound. He had no idea how bad it was or how much it was bleeding, but as soon as he looked around the street, he completely lost interest in himself. There were seven men lying in the street, eight counting the sheriff. And Jarrod had dropped five of them.

He suddenly felt sick. Whether it was from blood loss or just seeing so many men down in so short a time, he wasn't sure, but he did know he hadn't seen so much carnage so fast since the wars with the railroad. He thought he'd gotten used to it back then, having gone to the real war back east, but now he knew he'd lost that numbness that served him in those days. He didn't like what he saw now at all. He sat down in a chair in front of the closed newspaper office.

"Mr. Barkley? You hit?"

He looked up at one of the saloon girls from Harry's saloon. Jarrod offered a weak smile. "Looks like it. I'm still talking, so it can't be too bad."

The girl gently moved his hand and took the handkerchief away from his neck wound. "I'm gonna get the doctor for you," she said and put the handkerchief back.

Jarrod nodded, but even before she could get away, Dr. Merar was there. "Jarrod? How is it?" he asked and moved the handkerchief away.

"You tell me," Jarrod said.

"It's just a nick," the doctor said. "Missed everything important. You got lucky, but you stay right here until I get back to you, just in case. I think these fools in the street are worse off than you are."

Jarrod nodded and by the street lights and the full moon, he watched Dr. Merar move from one man to another. He finally got to the sheriff, but by then the sheriff was up and limping around with the help of Harry from the saloon. Jarrod saw Dr. Merar direct them to go to his office before he came back Jarrod's way.

"How do things look, Doc?" Jarrod asked.

"Terrible," the doctor said. "How many men did you hit, Jarrod?"

"Five, I think," Jarrod said. "They all went down. You just looked at them."

The doctor sighed. "You killed five, then."

Jarrod was stunned. "What?"

"I got eight men down, only the sheriff is still alive, and I'm assuming you didn't shoot him."

"No," Jarrod said. He began to feel even sicker, and dizzy.

"Let me get you to my office," Dr. Merar said. "You and Sheriff Madden are the only ones I can do anything for."

Jarrod got up and immediately went weak-kneed. The doctor looked for help and someone came and got an arm under Jarrod. The next thing Jarrod knew, he was sitting in the doctor's examination room, having his neck bandaged.

"Feeling better?" Dr. Merar was asking, taping a patch of bandage onto the wound.

Jarrod saw Sheriff Madden up on the table, his pantleg torn up to his knee, his left calf bandaged. "Guess so," Jarrod asked. "Did I pass out?"

"No, just got a bit senseless."

Sheriff Madden sat up. "I can't believe what just happened out there," he said. "I gotta get out there and start asking questions."

"Your deputy can take care of that," Dr. Merar said. "Jarrod, you're in better shape. A couple of your ranch hands are here and are waiting to ride home with you, just to be sure you make it okay. You just have a nick, but you're going to have to doctor it carefully for a few days. It missed the big arteries and veins. No stitches. It's deep enough I want it to heal from the inside out. This is some of that drawing salve I like to use. Use it only if the wound starts looking unhappy."

"Thanks," Jarrod said, taking a small jar from the doctor. "Fred – Doc says I just killed five men."

The sheriff nodded sadly. "Yeah. You did."

Jarrod closed his eyes, his stomach plummeting. He was feeling sick again. "Do we know who they were?"

"Not yet," Sheriff Madden said. "But it doesn't look like any of your men were involved in the fight. Doc, you gotta let me get out there and help sort things out."

Dr. Merar said, "Not yet. You need to get home and stay off that leg for a few days."

Jarrod said, "I'll come by your place tomorrow and give you a statement, Fred. Right now I think we're both better off heading for our beds."

"All right, Jarrod," Sheriff Madden said, but as Jarrod stood slowly up, he said, "Try not to lose any sleep over this. From what I saw where I was sitting on the ground, you did what you had to do."

"I still killed five men," Jarrod said, steadying himself. "I don't like the thought of that, even if I didn't have any choice."

Dr. Merar walked Jarrod out to the waiting room, where Jarrod saw three men from the ranch waiting for him. They looked worried, and relieved to see him walking.

"Is he okay to go home, Doc?" one of the men asked.

Dr. Merar nodded. "Should be. Just keep an eye on him and don't let him fall out of the saddle. The full moon ought to help visibility out there."

One of the other men took Jarrod by the arm to steady him. When they got outside, he saw that someone had fetched his horse for him, and within a minute or so, he was up in the saddle. His head had stopped swimming, and he felt all right to ride home, but he was happy to have the company.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

When they got home, Jarrod left his caretakers at the front door, and they said they'd see to his horse for him. He thanked them and went inside, noticing it was well after eleven o'clock now. He figured no one would still be up, but as he left his hat and gunbelt at the pegs in the hallway, he felt someone walk up beside him.

"What in the world happened to you?"

It was Nick, still dressed, coming from the kitchen and eating an apple. He eyed the bandage on Jarrod's neck, pointing.

"Rough night in town," Jarrod said. "If it's all the same with you, I think I'd like my bed."

"What happened?" Nick asked.

"Good old fashioned shoot out," Jarrod said and headed for the stairs. He climbed slowly.

Nick climbed slowly beside him. "What? You're shot? Anybody else hurt?"

"Eight others," Jarrod said. "Fred Madden shot in the leg, seven dead."

"Dead?!"

Jarrod stopped, and Nick stopped beside him. Jarrod felt an ugly chill to see the shock on Nick's face, but he nodded. "I killed five of them," Jarrod said.

Nick looked like he was going to pass out. Jarrod started climbing again.

"Wait a minute, wait a minute," Nick said and stopped his older brother on the landing. "You can't just walk off to bed, not after killing five men tonight. Five men, Jarrod."

"I know," Jarrod said wearily. "But I can't talk about it tonight. My neck hurts – it's not serious, but it hurts. I just want to get some sleep."

"All right, Jarrod," Nick said and kept climbing beside his brother until they got to the upstairs hall. "But Jarrod – "

Nick stopped him again at the door to Jarrod's bedroom. Jarrod looked at him.

Nick knew that look. The man was not just sick about it. He was devastated. "You need to talk, you wake me up. Hear me?"

Jarrod nodded. "I hear you, Nick. Good night."

Nick watched his older brother disappear behind his bedroom door, and he thought, _Five men_. _Jarrod just killed five men. Jarrod._ Of course, he knew his older brother had killed more men over time than five, and he'd probably killed five or more at once during the war or in battles with the railroad, but never five at once, in peacetime, in the street in a town. Not Jarrod. Hell, not even he or Heath had done that.

Cass Hyatt suddenly came into Nick's mind, but Nick immediately threw him out. That was different. That was Jarrod at the end of his rope. That wasn't the thoughtful man who had just walked up the stairs with him. This Jarrod was the real Jarrod, the man of the law, the man who never took a life in malice and hadn't now. This Jarrod was going to be in trouble, maybe not tonight, maybe not tomorrow, but it would come. It would hit him, what he'd done tonight, and it would hit him hard when it did.

XXXXXX

Jarrod was so tired, he had no trouble sleeping through the night, but when that inner five o'clock alarm went off and he touched the bandage on his neck, he remembered what had happened the night before, and he felt terrible again. He got himself up and ready for the day, had trouble shaving around the bandage but managed, and found he was the last one down to the breakfast table. Everyone watched him come in, and Jarrod knew from the looks on their faces that Nick had already told them what happened.

"Are you all right, Jarrod?" Victoria asked.

Jarrod nodded as he sat down and put the napkin on his lap. "Just a scratch. No stitches. I'll be fine."

"That's not what I meant," Victoria said.

Jarrod looked at the deep concern in her eyes, but it was Heath who spoke. "It's not every day you kill five men, Jarrod," Heath said. "We're all a little worried about you."

Jarrod reached for the eggs, saying, "I'll let you know if it's worth the worry. I need to go into town and give Fred Madden a statement. He's going to be laid for up a while. He was hit in the leg. Then I want to try to find out who the men I – " He hesitated on the word. "Who the men I killed were."

Audra reached her hand for his hand, squeezed it, then moved her hand away when he looked up with a tiny smile.

"Why don't you let me or Heath go with you?" Nick asked.

Jarrod shook his head, reaching for the ham. "No need. I'll be all right. If I'm not, I'll send somebody out so you can come collect me."

"Jarrod, perhaps you ought to take this for the serious – " Victoria started.

Jarrod didn't let her finish. "Mother, I'm fine. If it's going to come back on me, it won't be right away. Worry about me when I start falling apart – which I don't plan on doing today, if ever." Then he sighed. "It's not like I haven't killed five men in one setting before. I had worse days during the war."

"This wasn't a war," Victoria said. "This was out of the blue on a Wednesday night in a normally quiet town."

"I know what it was," Jarrod said. "And I will let you all know when to worry. I mean it."

"Gonna hold you to that, Jarrod," Heath said.

Jarrod nodded. And he meant it at the time.

But there was something about admitting he was upset about it that sat almost as poorly as actually killing the five men did. Jarrod didn't even begin to believe that until he was halfway to town, and once he rode into town, he was downright shaky. When he saw the alley where he hid, and the street where he killed those five men the night before, he stopped. He couldn't stop looking.

Until he saw people staring at him. Then he shook it off and headed for Sheriff Madden's house. The sheriff answered the door when Jarrod knocked. The tall man was hobbling around with one crutch, but hobbling.

"Morning, Jarrod," he said.

"Morning, Fred," Jarrod said, came inside and closed the door behind him.

The sheriff headed for his easy chair and sat down. Jarrod took a seat on the sofa nearby.

"How are you feeling this morning?" Jarrod asked.

"Better than I felt last night," the sheriff said. "How about you?"

Jarrod gave a nod but avoided answering. "I'm ready to write down my statement, but thought I'd better talk to you first. Are we sure I really killed all five of those men?"

The sheriff nodded. "I'm sorry. There were a couple witnesses who weren't involved in the fight who saw you do it."

Jarrod sighed. "Do you know who the dead men were?"

"One – the first one you shot - worked for Wally Miles. The other four worked for James Stevenson."

Jarrod closed his eyes. He knew both men well. Heck, he had been born at the Miles place. Jarrod rubbed his forehead. "Have you talked to Wally or Jim?"

"Not yet. I expect them both to turn up sometime today."

"What was the fight about? Do you know?"

"Apparently just an argument over a card game. Whole thing got out of control and when Wally's men ran, Jim's men went after them."

"Fred, every man I shot was shooting up the street."

"The witnesses back you up on that Jarrod, but it does look a little odd, you killing men from both sides of the fight."

"I know. I assume there will be an inquest."

"Pretty much guaranteed."

"Did you shoot the men I didn't shoot?"

"Shot 'em while I was sitting in the dirt. Didn't like doing it, but they were firing at each other and none of them would stop when I ordered them to. The miracle of it is that nobody on the street was hit."

"Except for you and me."

"How's the neck?"

"It's fine. Still stings a bit, but it's nothing. How's the leg?"

"Dr. Merar would have a fit if he knew I was up on it, so don't tell him."

Jarrod smiled. "I'll need some paper and a pen to write my statement out."

Sheriff Madden pointed. "In the desk over there. Want some coffee?"

"I'll get it," Jarrod said and headed for the kitchen. "How about you?"

"I've already had my fill for now."

Jarrod took the pot from the stove and poured himself some coffee. "Are you stoking the stove and making the coffee and everything else by yourself?"

"I've had practice more than once on just this one crutch," the sheriff said.

Jarrod came back into the living room, leaving his coffee on the kitchen table just outside the kitchen door and then heading for the desk for the paper and pen. He brought them and the inkwell back to the table and started writing.

He was only one paragraph into it when his hand began to tremble and his writing began to reflect it. He rubbed his forehead but kept steeling himself to go on, to concentrate on writing what he had seen and what he had done the night before. He took a good long time to write his statement and to make sure it was clear and truthful, not to mention legible. Then he put the pen down and read it over. And relived everything in his mind again.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Jarrod went to his office and found his secretary had already arrived. She looked up at him, and complete pity washed over her face. Jarrod always hated it when people pitied him, whatever the reason, but he forced himself to accept it from certain people, his secretary Anne among them.

"Don't look so worried, I'm fine," Jarrod said.

"I heard about what happened," she said. "It's the talk of the town."

"I'm not surprised," Jarrod said as he headed for his office.

"Mr. Miles has already been here."

As soon as she said that, Jarrod stopped. Things between Wally Miles and the Barkleys had cooled completely since Victoria was forced to kill Wally's son Evan to save Audra, and Jarrod was forced to confront Wally in front of both families with evidence that Evan was one sick and brutal young man. Jarrod could only imagine what Wally had to say now. "Did he say when he'd be back?"

"He said he'd be at Harry's saloon as soon as it opened," Anne said. "Mr. Barkley, if I were you, I wouldn't go over there."

Jarrod had already turned to go out the door, but he stopped and gave Anne a little smile. "Pretty mad, was he?"

"I'm not sure what he was," Anne said. "That's what was scary."

"Wally won't do anything violent in public, and I don't think he'll do anything at all except maybe vent his anger at me verbally," Jarrod said and went out the door.

He walked to Harry's saloon, ready for whatever Wally Miles was going to throw at him, be it words or a punch. There was no one there except Harry behind the bar and Wally in front of it, drinking hard liquor this early in the morning. Harry gave a concerned, warning look at Jarrod when he came in the door. Jarrod walked up to stand beside Wally and said, "Just coffee, Harry."

Harry went to pour it.

Wally didn't look at Jarrod, didn't move at all. He just said, "Allen Walker was only 25 years old. He'd been with me for six months. Came from Nevada – family somewhere near Lake Tahoe."

When Wally did not keep talking, Jarrod accepted his coffee from Harry and said, "I'm sorry, Wally, but he shot at me. He could have hit anybody else on the street. Your men were shooting recklessly."

"He was the same age Evan would have been," Wally said, "if you had let him live."

"This isn't about Evan, Wally."

Wally turned to look at him. "It's always about Evan. After all this time, no contact between your family and mine, and you still don't understand it's always about Evan."

"No," Jarrod objected. "As long as you let what happened with Evan poison your mind, it will be about Evan for you, but this wasn't. I had no idea who that boy I shot last night was until the sheriff told me a few minutes ago. He was just a boy shooting up the street and shooting at me. I had no choice but to return fire."

"Just like your mother had no choice but to kill my son."

"That's right, she had no choice and it's torn her up, Wally, that she had to kill Evan to keep him from killing Audra."

"So you say," Wally said. "So you've always said. But you killed five men last night, big high and mighty lawyer who dug up every prank and every little misdeed my son might have committed and threw them in my face. You killed five men, and I'm not gonna forget that. Stockton ain't never gonna forget that."

Wally walked out, leaving Jarrod staring into his coffee cup. Harry stood in front of him and said, "You did what you had to last night, Jarrod. I know there's been some bad blood between you and the Mileses, but don't let him get to you."

Jarrod smiled a little. "He's not getting to me, Harry. But it's not like I wanted to kill those men, and it's not like it's sitting easy on my mind. You can't kill five men in the course of one minute on a night it never should have happened and not have it bother you."

"I guess not," Harry said, "but those fools were bound and determined to kill each other last night, and anybody who got in their way – every single one of them. There's no telling how many people on the street you might have saved by stopping that brawl."

Jarrod sighed. "I know what my reputation has been around town since word of what happened with Cass Hyatt got out. It's been more than a year, I know, but I expect a lot of people are thinking I'm just a different man than they thought they knew and last night proved it."

Harry shook his head. "Not me, Jarrod. I know who you are, and the people who know you best aren't gonna think any less of you because of last night. Just don't go thinking less of yourself."

Jarrod finished his coffee and smiled. "Thank you, Harry," he said and went to pay him.

Harry shook his head. "Coffee's on me this morning, Jarrod."

Jarrod nodded his thanks, let his smile grow, and headed back to his office.

He no sooner got through the door than someone he threw a punch into his face, and his secretary screamed. Falling back into the hall, his head spinning and his jaw numbed from the punch, he tried to push himself back up only to be hit across the right cheek.

Furious now, he didn't get up but tackled whoever was standing over him by the ankles, pushing him back into the office. Jarrod climbed up while the man who hit him was down and just stood over him. "Try to hit me again and I'll put you down there for good!" Jarrod said.

And then he saw it was James Stevenson.

Catching his breath, Jarrod said, "Are you ready to talk like a civilized human being or are we just going to beat up on each other until one of us doesn't get up anymore?"

Stevenson looked up at him. "You killed four of my men last night."

"And I detested doing it, but they were firing at me and one of them hit me, and any of them could have hit anybody else on the street," Jarrod said.

"They were kids! Rowdy kids! The oldest one was twenty!"

Jarrod hadn't known that. It cut into him more deeply than he was willing to let anyone – especially Stevenson – know. But he said, "They were old enough to be carrying guns and shooting them off in the street. I'm more sorry than I can say, Jim, but I had no choice."

Stevenson climbed to his feet and Jarrod let him. Backed up as far as she could get behind Stevenson, Anne was terrified.

Jarrod said, "You've disrupted my business and frightened my secretary, and you've made your point. Now get out of here."

Stevenson was older than Jarrod by a good ten years, but had not lost much of his strength, and Jarrod knew Stevenson could deck him again anytime. But now Jarrod was angry, and that black anger that sometimes came over him was coming over him now. Stevenson saw it, and he knew better than to challenge it. "I'll have you for this, Barkley. You won't get away with it."

"Get out," Jarrod repeated.

Stevenson left, and Jarrod quickly went to Anne's side, taking her in his arms. She was shaking.

"Are you all right?" Jarrod asked. "Did he hurt you?"

"No, no," she said. "He just frightened me."

"Listen, I think you'd better let me walk you home. Take the rest of the week off and we'll see about next week if things quiet down. Of course, I'll pay you for the time."

"Mr. Barkley, I really don't want to run away and leave you here alone."

Jarrod smiled at her, at her determination and at her loyalty. "Thank you, Anne, but don't worry. I'll be all right. This is all going to blow over in a few days."

"He attacked you – "

"And he won't do it again. If I feel threatened, I'll get my brother Nick in here. He'll wipe the floor up with anyone who tries to come after me."

Jarrod smiled, and Anne finally did too. "All right," she said and took her reticule out of the bottom drawer of her desk.

Jarrod walked her home without incident and without any dirty looks from anyone on the street. Once he left her off there, he breathed easier. He wasn't nearly as secure as he sounded when he told her this was all going to blow over. He really had no idea when it would, but he was pretty sure that it wasn't going to be today, and probably not by the typically rowdy Saturday night.

As for when it would blow over in his own mind and his own soul, he had to admit to himself that the confrontations with Miles and Stevenson had made him even more uneasy, and more convinced that it was going to be a while before it blew away, if it ever did.

But then again, should it? If you kill five men on a city street on what started out as a regular midweek evening, should you ever get over it at all?


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Jarrod gave up on his workday and went home. Too tired to realize he was developing pretty good scrapes and bruises on his chin and on his cheek, he was taken aback by the look on his sister's face when he came in the door. "What, aren't I welcome here either?"

"What?" Audra asked, confused.

"Sorry, it was a rough morning," Jarrod said, left his briefcase on the table in the foyer, and came past her to hang up his gunbelt and hat on the pegs in the hallway.

Audra followed him. "I can see that. You've been in a fight and it's not even lunchtime."

"Oh," Jarrod said, touching his cheek and realizing for the first time it hurt. "I didn't realize it was showing."

"Come into the kitchen. You need the bandage on your neck changed, too."

Audra took him by the arm, and he knew better than to argue with her. When they got into the kitchen, Victoria was there helping Silas with lunch. The two of them gave him the same shocked look Audra had given him. "What happened?" Victoria asked, putting aside her cooking chores, knowing that whatever fight he had gotten into had to be about the fight the night before.

Silas kept cooking at the stove, but shook his head at Jarrod's appearance.

Audra sat Jarrod down on a chair in a far corner of the kitchen, next to where the medical supplies were kept and away from where the food was prepared. "I found out who the men I killed last night worked for. Four of them worked for Jim Stevenson, and he decked me twice before I decided to fight back."

"Oh, Jarrod," Victoria said as Audra got out the medical supplies.

Jarrod said, "Believe me, it wasn't the way I wanted this day to go, but Jim was pretty upset."

"Audra, take that neck bandage off," Victoria said, and as Audra did so, she said, "Who did the other one work for?"

"Wally Miles," Jarrod said.

Victoria stopped what she was doing. "Wally?"

"He didn't hit me, but you can probably imagine how the conversation went."

Audra said, "He's still angry about Evan, isn't he?"

"He always will be, I'm afraid," Jarrod said, "but now he's using last night to aim his anger at me, for digging up what I did on Evan and, as he sees it, throwing it in his face. Ow!"

Audra had removed the small bandage over Jarrod's neck wound, and it hurt coming off. Victoria and Audra both got their first look at it. "That looks a bit deeper than I thought it would," Victoria said.

"Dr. Merar said he didn't want to take stitches – he wanted it to heal from the inside out," Jarrod said. "He said to just keep it covered and use that ugly brown drawing salve on it if need be."

"It looks clean," Victoria said. "We'll just recover it. I'll clean your face with some astringent. That will sting."

"Ow!" Jarrod cried again when she applied the astringent. "You were right."

"I'm just going to clean it and leave it to heal uncovered," Victoria said. "You'll just have to avoid fighting for a few days."

"Not a problem," Jarrod said. "I decided it was a good idea not to go back into town for the rest of the week. This all needs to blow over. I need to give it the time."

"Did you see Fred?"

"Yes, he's up and around with a crutch already. Dr. Merar will have a fit."

"I'll go see him tomorrow," Victoria said.

"I'd rather you didn't go into town, Mother," Jarrod said, very seriously.

"I don't think anyone is going to beat me up while I'm visiting the sheriff," Victoria said.

"Wally Miles might be there," Jarrod said.

"I'll take my chances," Victoria said.

"I'm supposed to help the orphans with their afternoon lessons anyway," Audra said. "I don't think you want me going in alone."

"We'll be fine together," Victoria said.

"Please take Nick or Heath with you," Jarrod said.

Victoria said, "We'll see."

Jarrod heaved a big sigh. "Mother, for once, will you do as I ask without an argument?"

Jarrod eyed her, and Victoria looked back at him just as hard. But then she backed off. She knew when her oldest was genuinely insistent about what he was asking, and Jarrod was insistent. Victoria nodded. "I'll talk to Nick and Heath when they get in this evening."

"Are you finished with me? I brought some work home I could stand to do."

"We're finished," Victoria said.

Jarrod got up as they began to put the medical supplies away. "I'll be in the library if you need me," he said and went out.

Silas watched him go with another shake of his head.

Victoria noticed it.

Audra said, "Mother, I have the feeling this isn't the end of Jarrod's fighting over what happened last night."

"I have the same feeling," Victoria said, "and I suspect Silas will make it three."

Silas nodded. "None of your boys walk away from a fight," he said.

"No," Victoria said, "and I'm not one to do their fighting for them as long as I can avoid it. Maybe we'd better replenish these medical supplies when we go to town."

 _And there are many kinds of fights,_ Victoria thought, and worried that the biggest one for Jarrod hadn't started yet.

XXXXXXX

His disagreements with Miles and Stevenson took Jarrod's mind off the night before, but working alone in the library brought it back. He'd been writing for heaven knew how long when he took a break to rub his eyes, and suddenly there it was. He could see it in his mind's eye, the two Miles men running out of the saloon and him shooting one of them when they fired at him, then the Stevenson men coming after them, and firing at him as well. He felt the neck wound again, and he remembered firing at the Stevenson men and dropping four of them. In less than a minute, he had killed five men.

 _I should have done something different. What could I have done differently?_

He knew better than to second guess himself, but he did it anyway. Five men were dead by his hand. There had to have been a better solution than that.

He had to put his work down. The memory of killing those men was overwhelming him. He tried getting up and moving around, but it didn't ease his troubled mind at all. With every step, he was becoming more and more anxious and guilty.

The door opened suddenly and Nick came in. "Well, you are here."

Jarrod stopped. Something in his expression brought Nick up short.

"You all right?" Nick asked.

"Yeah," Jarrod said. "Just – thinking too much."

Nick took a look at his face. "Fighting too much, too. Audra told me they had to patch you up, but I get the feeling the thinking too much came on after you came in here."

Jarrod sighed. "I killed five men last night, Nick."

"There's no telling how many more you saved."

"But I shot and killed five, all of them young."

"And all of them shooting up the street."

Jarrod shook his head. "That's not easing my conscience any."

As Jarrod started pacing again, Nick said, "Yeah, it probably wouldn't ease mine either. I'm sorry there's nothing I can say to help you, Jarrod, other than not to let the guilt run away with you."

"Will you go into town with Mother and Audra tomorrow? Wally Miles and Jim Stevenson were troublesome today, as you've probably noticed." Jarrod pointed vaguely at his face.

"Do you trust me not to punch their faces in?"

"Under the circumstances, yes. Leave the fighting to me for a change. I'm the one who needs to work off the guilty conscience, and somehow that seems to help."

"Before too long, Jarrod, what happened last night is gonna wash over you like a tidal wave, you know."

"I know," Jarrod said.

"Remember what I said. Don't let it carry you away before you talk to us."

Jarrod looked at his younger brother, at the real concern in his eyes, and he tried to smile. "I won't. It's not happening yet."

Nick put his arm around his brother and gave his back a friendly slap. "Put the work away. It's time to enjoy a drink before dinner."

Jarrod began to leave with him. "Give me a minute to run upstairs and splash some water on my face."

"You've been concentrating too hard on whatever it is you're writing, haven't you?" Nick asked as they headed down the hall.

Jarrod took a big breath. "Yeah, I guess I still haven't learned my lesson about that, either."

By then they were at the stairs, and Jarrod headed up. Nick headed into the living room, where the rest of the family was already gathered.

"What lesson was that?" Victoria asked as Nick came in.

"Working so hard on writing things that he gets whacked out from not resting and not eating right," Nick said as he headed for the whiskey. "Don't worry, he's all right on that. It's last night he's still grappling with."

"I'm not sure how I'd feel if I killed five young men in just a minute or two," Heath said. "I mean, there was the war, but that was different. You never knew who you hit, if you hit anybody, or how they fared. Five men dead in the street in front of me, by my hand – I reckon I'd feel just as bad as Jarrod is feeling."

"Yeah," Nick agreed.

Victoria sipped her wine. "It's something he's going to have to find his own way through," she said, thinking, worrying. "There are some places we can't really go with each other, no matter how much we want to."

Her children looked at each other, knowing she was right but aching to do something to help their older brother. They just didn't know what it could be.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

The first nightmare hit that night. Jarrod woke up with a start and for a moment thought he was back out in the street in Stockton, but he was home, in his bed. Yet he was still back out in the street.

He was seeing exactly what he saw as he shot those five men, except this time there was something different. This time they each stared at him, stared hard, and he saw their faces in the light of the street and the buildings and the full moon. He saw their young baby faces, and they may have been carrying guns and shooting, but they looked as terrified as he felt, and he shot them anyway. One by one, he shot them, and he shot them full in the chest and watched the blood come oozing out as their lives oozed away.

He couldn't get their faces out of his mind. He got up, and he got some water. And then he splashed some water in his face. And then he began to pace and he paced for a long time.

He looked out the window finally and saw the sky begin to lighten, and he knew it was pointless to try to get any more sleep. He washed up and shaved and dressed, then took care of personal business and went downstairs. He could smell biscuits baking. He went to the kitchen and found only Silas up and working.

"Good mornin', Mr. Barkley," Silas said cheerfully, as usual.

"Morning, Silas," Jarrod said. "Is coffee ready yet?"

"Yes, sir, right there on the stove."

Jarrod fetched a cup and poured himself some coffee. Silas could tell he hadn't slept well and his mind was still somewhere else.

"It's a beautiful morning, Mr. Barkley," Silas said. "Why don't you take that coffee out into the garden, start the day off with some fresh air?"

Jarrod smiled. "You've got a good idea there, Silas," he said, and went out the back door.

It was a beautiful morning. The sun was just beginning to peep over the mountains in the east. The air was crisp and clean, and it promised to be a day when the temperature was comfortable and the flowers in the garden would bloom big and happy. Jarrod wandered around his mother's roses and all the other early summer flowers that Audra had planted. He sat down on the bench there among the roses and he closed his eyes.

He might have fallen asleep, but those men he killed still haunted him. He wondered if their bosses would pay for their funerals. He wondered if he should go to those funerals, or would it put salt in the wounds. He wondered what, if anything, he should do now.

"Hey! Jarrod!" Nick's voice came booming from the kitchen door. "Breakfast is up!"

Jarrod didn't realize he'd been sitting there for half an hour until he looked at the remaining coffee in his cup and it was cold. He tossed it into the dirt after he left the garden and carried his cup back in, leaving it in the sink in the kitchen and then joining his family in the dining room.

One look at him told them he had not slept well. They looked at each other as he sat down and filled his plate. No one really knew what to say.

"How's the neck?" Nick finally asked.

"Itches," Jarrod said. "It's healing."

"We'll be going into town after breakfast," Victoria said. "Do you have anything you want us to tell the sheriff about?"

Jarrod shook his head. "No, I gave him my statement. There's nothing I want to change or add to it."

"Do you need anything from your office?"

Jarrod shook his head again. "No, I brought plenty of work with me."

"We're likely to be gone all day," Nick said.

"We'll be all right without you, Nick," Heath said. "Jarrod, you feel like joining us out on the north ridge?"

Jarrod shook his head one more time. "Got plenty to do here."

When no one said anything else, Jarrod looked up and noticed all heads were down. He could almost read their minds. He was going to be here by himself all day, without any diversion except his work. It was going to be too easy for him to think too much.

"Don't worry, Silas will look after me," Jarrod said and gave the houseman a grin as Silas refilled the coffee pot.

"I got some potatoes you can peel, Mr. Barkley," Silas said, returning the grin.

"There, see?" Jarrod asked. "When I get too tired of writing that brief, I can peel potatoes. I'm all set for the day."

"Silas, you just make sure he remembers to eat and relax a bit," Nick said. "He's getting old, you know. Can't keep up the long hours without food and sleep anymore."

"Brother Nick," Jarrod said, "I am as spry and hardy as I was when I was a novice lawyer building my reputation."

"In your mind, maybe," Nick said.

"Nick and I just heard you pacing most of the night," Heath said, and Victoria and Audra looked surprised. "We just want you to look out for yourself."

"I will," Jarrod said quietly, sincerely. "Please don't worry. Nick, you just take good care of yourself in town and don't get into my fight."

"We'll keep him in line," Audra said. "I think I'll have him help the orphans with their spelling lesson."

Heath began to laugh. "Ain't that kinda like the blind leading the blind?"

Jarrod even laughed. "Maybe the orphans can teach Nick."

"Hey – " Nick said in mock protest, and the mood lightened considerably.

XXXXXXX

The visit to the sheriff went fine. As Jarrod said, he was up and around using a crutch. Victoria had to lecture him like he was one of her children, and he sat down and got off his feet, at least for the morning hours when the Barkleys were with him.

He told them that an inquest had been scheduled for the coming Monday. "In a way, I'll be glad to get it over with," the sheriff said. "Might help everybody put it all behind us."

The Barkleys each just nodded. There wasn't much of anything to say.

The Barkleys were on their way to the orphanage when they ran into Wally Miles. He had only disgust in his eyes, despite Victoria's cheerful, "Wally, it's good to see you."

Nick gave the disgust back, and he and Miles locked gazes. Miles said, "I'm burying my boy that Jarrod shot, tomorrow. I don't expect any of the Barkleys to show up. You're not welcome."

He started to walk away, but Victoria stopped him. "Wally – you know Jarrod is very broken up about what happened."

"He damned well ought to be," Miles said.

"Watch your mouth," Nick said.

Victoria raised her hand between them. "Gentlemen, you won't accomplish a thing by having at each other. Wally, we've been good friends for many, many years, even after some very hard bumps in the road. I understand your anger, but Jarrod was only trying to protect himself and other innocent people on the street. Think about that for a while, and you may understand, too. Jarrod knows that he has to find a way to live with what happened. You and I will, too."

Miles cooled a little. "I remember the night we brought Jarrod into this world, Victoria. After Evan, after the other night, I'm sorry to say I regret it."

Miles walked away, and Audra took hold of her mother's arm. Miles's words stung Victoria very deeply, but they didn't surprise her, and as long as Miles's anger came out only in words, there was nothing she could do about it except avoid the man. "Let's get to the orphanage," she said to her children, and they continued on.

XXXXXXX

The Barkleys came home after a long day, weary from working with the children, but that brought a welcome distraction from the memory of their encounter with Wally Miles. Besides, seeing all those eager faces learning their lessons and helping them along made everyone feel that life was worthwhile.

When they arrived home and left the surrey with Ciego, they went into the house and found Heath already in from the range. He was alone in the living room, cleaned up and pouring himself some whiskey. Nick tossed his hat onto the table in the foyer as they all came in.

"Boy, it's good to be home," Nick said.

Victoria said, "I think we'll all clean up a bit – "

"I think we better talk first," Heath said, cutting her off.

Victoria went numb. "What is it? What's happened?"

"I'm not sure," Heath admitted, "but Silas says Jarrod's been out in the garden for most of the afternoon, just sitting there, nursing one big glass of scotch. I think the other night's finally caving in on him."

Heath kept Nick and Audra in the foyer, but Victoria walked to the dining room and the window that overlooked the garden. She looked out and she saw Jarrod there, sitting on the bench, staring, drinking. She closed her eyes and sighed.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Victoria suggested they all clean up and leave Jarrod alone for a bit longer. When she had finished her own ablutions, she came downstairs. Heath had been joined by Nick in the living room, but Jarrod was not there. Nick and Heath looked up at her.

"We haven't bothered him," Nick said, "but I think somebody better."

Victoria nodded. "Me first, I think," she said and went back to the kitchen.

Silas was still cooking dinner. He gave her a look that said he hoped he had done the right thing by leaving Jarrod alone all afternoon. Victoria understood, smiled at him, and squeezed his arm.

Silas said, "I tried to get him to come in, but he wanted to stay out there. He's just workin' it out, Mrs. Barkley."

Victoria nodded and went outside.

Jarrod looked up at her as she sat beside him. His eyes were tired, a little vacant, but whether it was from drinking or fatigue she couldn't tell, until he said, "Hello, Mother. How was Stockton?"

She could see that big empty glass and smell the scotch on his breath. She sat beside him and took his arm. "Fred had some news for us. The inquest is scheduled for Monday at ten."

Jarrod nodded but didn't say anything.

Victoria said, "It's after you, isn't it? What happened the other night."

"Guess so," Jarrod said. "Don't blame Silas for not hauling me in. He tried to, but I just didn't want to get up. Mother, I never though I was a killer – even after Cass Hyatt – " He choked on the words and stopped.

"And after the other night, you think what you've feared has been confirmed," Victoria said. "You think you are a killer."

"Obviously, I am," he said. "I killed five men in less than a minute. I think that confirms it."

"Jarrod, if you were a killer, you wouldn't be drinking scotch and staring at the air all afternoon. It wouldn't be bothering you this much."

"No, Mother, I'm afraid you don't understand. I killed them without thinking. I killed them without even counting how many I was killing. I just killed them."

"Fred told us everything from his point of view. He was down, those men were shooting up the street, you acted without thinking because there wasn't any time to think. There was only time to act."

"And that's the point," Jarrod said. "My first action, the one I took without thinking, was killing five men. Something else should have come to my mind first, but it didn't. I didn't even consider there might be another way to approach the situation."

"Maybe there wasn't."

"Maybe there was. I've been sitting her thinking about it. There were other men in the street who didn't fire their guns. We could have acted together to get those men to throw down their guns without any more bloodshed. I just never gave anyone else a chance to do that. I just shot five men dead."

Victoria carefully considered her words, but found that she was afraid the right words weren't there for her. She said, "Jarrod, nothing anyone can say will ease your heart, I know. The fact that your heart is so broken should tell you that you're not a killer."

"There will be the inquest," Jarrod said.

"And even then, if it's found you were justified, you will still be heartbroken. Killers do not nurse broken hearts."

Jarrod was silent. He didn't know what to say.

Victoria gave it long seconds, too, before she asked, "Did you drink your lunch?"

Jarrod chuckled once. "Fraid so."

"Then you come inside and eat," Victoria said. "You'll think more clearly on a full stomach."

They stood up together. Jarrod said, "I hope so. I gotta sort this one out, Mother, one way or another."

"Or you'll have to learn to live with it, as it is. Either way, you can't do it on an empty stomach, and you can't do it by ruminating on it every minute of the day. Sometimes you have to let it rest."

Jarrod understood, and he nodded. "Silas promised me chicken and dumplings for dinner."

Victoria smiled. "Silas always delivers on his promises."

XXXXXX

Dinner was remarkably enjoyable. Jarrod did not carry his worries to dinner with him, but let it rest, as his mother had suggested. After dinner coffee was also comfortable and convivial. Everyone went to bed feeling a bit better about the world.

Until that wee small hour in the morning, when Jarrod woke up from another nightmare, this one similar but different. He was still back in the street. The men he had killed were still looking at him, staring hard as he killed them. But this time, they continued to stare at him even after they were dead. Their eyes just kept staring and staring.

Jarrod woke up with a gasp. He breathing was hard and fast and it took several minutes to get it to calm down. He wished the sky was beginning to lighten, but it wasn't. It was still night, but the nearly full moon cast considerable light in through the window. It was bright enough for Jarrod to dress without lighting a lamp.

He went downstairs as quietly as he could and out into the yard. All was quiet down there, no one moving around except a few horses in the corral. Jarrod went into the barn, lit the lamp there, saddled his horse, then put the light out as he led his horse out into the yard. He mounted and rode away.

He rode by the light of the moon for a long time, aimlessly, just trying to clear his head, but it just wouldn't clear. He couldn't feel any less horrible about killing those five men than he ever felt, and he couldn't keep that night from replaying in his mind over and over. As the sun finally began to come up, he headed back to the house and the stable.

Nick and Heath were waiting there, looking like they were heading into the stable themselves. "Where the hell have you been?" Nick asked, not quietly. "You've got Mother and Audra worried half to death."

"I'm sorry," Jarrod said, dismounting. "I couldn't sleep. Thought I'd try to air my brain out."

"I'll take care of your horse for you, Jarrod," Heath said.

Jarrod got the feeling that Heath heard an argument brewing between his older brothers and he didn't want to be around for it. "Thanks, Heath," Jarrod said.

Heath took Jarrod's horse and went into the barn. As soon as he was gone, Nick said, "Look, I understand why you're bothered by all this, but you can't go riding off without telling anybody where you've gone, especially in the middle of the night."

"I said I was sorry, Nick, it won't happen again," Jarrod said and started walking toward the house.

Nick took hold of his arm and stopped him. "You told me you'd come to me when this started to hit you."

"And I should have," Jarrod agreed. "I guess I just didn't want to wake you up."

"That inquest is in three days," Nick said. "You better have your mind settled when you testify. You could be in big trouble if that inquest doesn't go your way."

"I know," Jarrod said.

"AND you better want it to go your way. You understand me?"

Jarrod did understand. Nick was worried that Jarrod felt so much guilt that he'd want the inquest to result in him being jailed. But Jarrod shook his head. "I know, Nick. I don't want to see myself in jail any more than you do. I don't think I've earned that. I just don't know yet what I've earned."

"You better sort it out by Monday, Pappy, because every word you say is gonna weigh for you or against you."

"I know, Nick," Jarrod said, growing impatient, and he headed for the house.

Nick let him go this time, but followed about ten feet behind. As soon as Jarrod went in the door, his mother and sister stopped him in the foyer.

"Are you all right?" Victoria asked.

Jarrod nodded. "Just trying to sort things out."

"Don't ever ride away and let me worry about where you've gone again, Jarrod," Victoria said. "Not while something like this is going on."

"I'm sorry," Jarrod said. "I was wrong. I just woke up and couldn't go back to sleep and didn't think I ought to wake up any of the rest of you."

"Next time, wake someone up," Victoria said. "There's food in the warmer waiting for you. The rest of us have eaten."

Jarrod nodded. "Thank you."

He went into the kitchen and found Silas there, already pouring some coffee for him at the kitchen table. "I heard you ride in, Mr. Barkley," Silas said. "I made some good flapjacks this mornin'. Will you have some?"

"Thank you, Silas, I will," Jarrod said, and in a moment, Silas had them down in front of him with butter and molasses right behind.

Jarrod gave Silas a smile and Silas gave it right back. "I always thought flapjacks could help ease a troubled soul," Silas said. "Always worked for me, anyway."

Jarrod paused as he buttered up his flapjacks. "I know we all have our own private hells, Silas. I can't begin to say I understand what you went through when you were a slave."

"I had it easy compared to most," Silas said. "I worked in the house, not in the field. I never did get whipped like some."

"But you lost your family. I know that was horrible, but I can't really feel the loss like you do."

"And I never killed five men in one night," Silas said. "Like you say, we all have our private hells, Mr. Barkley. I know you're sufferin', but I can't feel your sufferin' like you do. I just know that because you're sufferin' – well, I always did know you were a good man. Seein' you hurtin' like this makes me know it even more."

Jarrod sighed. "Right now, I don't feel like a very good man."

"I know," Silas said, "but you are. No doubt in my mind about that."

Jarrod smiled. "Just knowing you believe in me, Silas – it helps me a lot."

Silas smiled. "You eat those flapjacks before they get cold. They'll help you even more."


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Saturday and Sunday didn't bring much more clarity for Jarrod. On Sunday he purposely did not go to church, mainly because he did not want to run into Wally Miles or Jim Stevenson, but partly because he honestly didn't feel like he deserved to put himself before God. True, church is where the minister always said sinners belong, but somehow, Jarrod didn't feel like a sinner who was asking for forgiveness. He felt like something else, something he couldn't put a label to but something that didn't deserve to be in God's presence.

He knew it was foolish, but there it was anyway. He stayed home while the rest of the family went to church.

When the rest of them came home, Jarrod was working in the study and didn't even know they were there until Nick came barging in. Jarrod looked up and saw the anger in his brother's eyes. "What happened?" Jarrod asked.

"Wally Miles," Nick said. "He had his say at Mother and Audra, and I nearly – " Nick stopped, the words not able to get out through his clenched teeth but reflected in his tight fist.

"You didn't hit him," Jarrod said.

"I wanted to. I swear, Jarrod, that man deserves to have his head handed to him."

Jarrod leaned back in his chair. "It's still about Evan for him. It'll always be about Evan for him. He's still brooding about Mother killing him."

"That's not what he was talking about today. He was talking about you."

Jarrod sighed and nodded. "And how I dug up all those charges against Evan. He threw that in my face, too, the other day."

"Jim Stevenson was there, too, with his sons and a few of his hired hands."

"Did he come after Mother?" Jarrod asked, ready to jump out of his chair and do something about it.

"No," Nick said, "he just stood back and listened to Wally, and then he stared at me like he wanted MY head."

Jarrod rubbed his forehead. "I wish I knew what to do about those two. I just don't know what to do."

"Stay away from them as best we can, but Jarrod – I got a real bad feeling, especially about Stevenson. He's being real quiet, but something is stewing, I can feel it."

Jarrod thought about that for a moment, then he asked, "Where's Heath?"

"Changing clothes, I think. Why?"

Jarrod sighed and rubbed his eyes. "You said you wanted to know when I thought this whole thing might be rolling over me like a tidal wave."

"I do," Nick said quietly.

Jarrod got up. "It is, and not just what happened. I agree with you. Stevenson might be up to something, and if anything were to happen to Mother or Audra or you or Heath because of what I did – "

"Let it go, Jarrod," Nick said. "Let us worry about us. Let Heath and I worry about Mother and Audra."

Jarrod leaned back against the desk. "All right, if you promise me either you or Heath will be with Mother and Audra if they leave the property over the next week or two."

"We've already talked about that. Now, tell me the truth. What are you thinking that has you so scared?"

Jarrod looked up. "Not just how bad I feel for killing those men. That's tearing the soul right out of me, Nick. But if more were to happen. If anyone else dies – not just one of us or our men, but even more of Stevenson's men or Wally's men. What I'm scared of is that this is beginning to snowball and it'll turn into something worse than it already is."

"We'll take precautions, Jarrod. We'll do the best we can with this."

Jarrod sighed and began to pace. "Can't help thinking I should have done something else the other night."

"What?"

"I don't know. Something. Something other than killing five men." Jarrod stopped by the fireplace, rested his arm on the mantel, staring into the firebox.

"You're not responsible for anything Wally or Stevenson does now," Nick said. "You know that."

"Maybe I know that. Maybe I don't. Maybe there's something I could be doing now to keep them from doing anything."

"It's not all on your shoulders, Jarrod. You gotta give that lousy habit up."

"Maybe I should go talk to Stevenson."

"He'll probably deck you again."

Jarrod looked around. "Maybe I ought to let him. Might do us both a world of good."

"It didn't do you any good the other day when he slugged you, did it? Come on, Jarrod. Start acting like the smart man you are and not the self-pitying man you're turning into."

Jarrod's eyes flared. If there was any word that raised his ire fast, it was "pity."

Nick knew he was hitting something now. "Tell me this right now. When you take the stand at that inquest and they ask you why you did what you did, what are you gonna say?"

The fire left Jarrod's eyes. He squinted at the firebox again, thinking. He finally shrugged as if he didn't have any idea what he was going to say.

Nick stepped closer to him. "Answer the question, Mr. Barkley. Why did you shoot those five men? They're dead, Mr. Barkley. Why did you kill them?"

Nick's pushing him made Jarrod blurt out an answer. "The bullets were flying and I had to stop them fast. I called on those men to stop shooting, but they wouldn't do it. I had to stop them before anybody else was hurt."

Nick eased off, smiling. "There it is, Counselor. There's your answer, at the inquest and in your own heart. The bullets were flying and you had to stop them fast. You called on those boys to stop shooting and they wouldn't do it. You had to stop them before anybody else was hurt. You did the right thing, Jarrod. For that time, for that place, under those circumstances, you did the right thing."

Jarrod let it sink in. Maybe Nick was right, and maybe that was the thing that ate at his heart the most. Killing those five men, at that time and at that place, was the right thing to do. He'd always told himself – especially after the war – that there was always a better alternative to killing. Maybe part of what was eating him alive was that this time there was no real alternative.

Jarrod sat down on the sofa. "Would you get Heath? I want to talk to the two of you."

Nick nodded and went to get his brother.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Nick found Heath coming down the stairs, dressed in his work clothes. "Heath, Jarrod wants to talk to us, come on."

Heath followed as Nick went back to the library. Heath didn't feel the need to ask what Jarrod wanted to see them about. There was only one topic of conversation around here since Wednesday night.

Jarrod was still sitting on the sofa in the library when his brothers came in. Heath closed the door behind him while Nick sat down in one of the armchairs that faced Jarrod. Heath stayed standing for the time being.

Jarrod said, "Nick and I both have a bad feeling about Jim Stevenson, Heath. And Wally Miles, for that matter. After that inquest tomorrow, if I'm not held accountable for killing those men, Jim or his men at least are going to do something. I don't know what, but we need to be prepared for anything."

"Reckon we ought to take a few men to town with us," Heath said.

Jarrod leaned back. "The last thing I want is to start a war over this. I'm wondering what the two of you would think if only the family went, and we went completely unarmed. Leave all the guns and rifles home."

Nick shook his head. "Jarrod, that might be suicide."

Jarrod looked up at him. "If we're armed, Nick, and especially if we have a lot of men with us, I think it's pretty likely the shooting will start, and Mother and Audra will get caught in the middle of it."

"We can have them stay home," Heath tried.

Jarrod smiled. "YOU can be the one to tell Mother that."

Heath shrugged a little.

"Jarrod," Nick said, "I'm not interested in starting a war over this either, but it might start even if we aren't armed. You're still hurting because you had to kill those men, so you're still thinking like you don't want to kill any more. If we don't go armed, if we don't show that we're ready to defend ourselves, it could turn out worse than if we had."

"Guns won't be allowed at the inquest," Jarrod said.

"We'll leave our men outside with our firearms."

"And how do we protect Mother and Audra if the shooting starts?"

"They're gonna have to stay home," Heath said.

Jarrod got up and walked toward the desk. "They'll never do it."

"Then they'll stay in the courthouse with Heath until the rest of us are well out of there," Nick said.

Jarrod sat down behind the desk. "There is one way they might stay home."

"How's that?" Heath asked.

Jarrod looked up. "I go alone to the inquest, and I go unarmed."

"Jarrod, they could lynch you!" Nick yelled.

Jarrod shook his head. "I don't think so, Nick, and I think it's our best bet of getting through this without any more bloodshed."

"Then YOU can tell Mother she's staying home," Nick said.

"I've already heard," Victoria's voice came from the door.

They didn't even notice she had come in, and they didn't know how much she'd heard. Audra was with her. They stood at the door for a moment, then slowly came in.

"Under other circumstances, I would insist that we all go as a family to the inquest," Victoria said. "But I think Jarrod is right. Wally and Jim are less likely to start something big if only Jarrod goes to the inquest, and if he goes unarmed. I think it's the best chance of having this all blow over."

Nick began to complain. "Mother – "

Audra suddenly chipped in. "No, Nick, Mother and Jarrod are right. If Jarrod goes alone and unarmed, he'll be telling everyone that he is ready to accept the judgment of the inquest, without a fight."

"There is a chance somebody might just shoot you when you walk out of that courthouse, Jarrod," Heath said.

Jarrod shook his head. "Just a small chance, one I'm willing to take." He looked up at his family. "This is all about me and only me. I'm the one who killed those boys – and they were just boys. I'm the one who has to show everyone in town that I believe in the justice system and I'm willing to take my punishment without complaint, if they dish it out. But going alone and unarmed will show something else, too – that I did what I had to do and I believe I was right."

"Do you really believe that, Jarrod?" Victoria asked.

Jarrod smiled a little. "Maybe I'm up to about 90% believing it. But if I walk in there tomorrow alone and unarmed, I suspect I'll get the other 10%."

"Then it's settled," Victoria said. "This is about Jarrod. He gets what he wants. He goes alone and unarmed, and the rest of us stay far away from Stockton."

Victoria aimed her last sentence at Nick and Heath. Heath nodded and meant it. Nick frowned and meant it.

"Now," Victoria said, "will the three of you kindly come join us for lunch?"

With that, she turned and went out. Audra gave a smile to her brothers before she turned and left. Nick still frowned, even as Jarrod came over to him and took him by the arm. "The lady of the house has spoken, Nick."

"I don't want to be planning a funeral this time tomorrow, Jarrod," Nick said quietly.

Jarrod said, "You won't be. Come on."

XXXXXX

The next morning, Jarrod left alone, allowing himself only enough time to go directly to the courthouse and be perhaps only a few minutes early. He planned to go straight home after the proceedings were over, both to reassure his family that everything was all right and to avoid being around town for the rest of the day. He felt confident he was doing the right thing, even as he approached town and even as his heartbeat picked up when he entered the street where he'd killed the five men only five days earlier.

The street was startlingly empty, and Jarrod saw why as he made his way slowly down the middle. There was a good-sized crowd around the courthouse. From a distance, Jarrod couldn't see who might have been townspeople and who might have been cowhands from the Miles and Stevenson spreads, but he kept riding at the same pace, easy and as relaxed as he could get even though he was as nervous as he could ever remember being. No, not just nervous. Scared.

But he kept going, and soon he was having to slow down so that people could move out of the way of his horse. He made it to the hitching rail, dismounted and tethered his horse, and walked into the courthouse without a word.

"Hope you get what you deserve, Barkley!" a lone voice yelled.

Jarrod ignored it and didn't hear anyone else taking up the call.

Once inside, he saw the sheriff sitting near the front, and he saw two crutches there next to him. Jarrod headed for him and sat down in the row behind him.

"Fred," he said in greeting. "How's the leg?"

"Coming along," Sheriff Madden said. "How are you doing?"

"I'll be doing better in an hour or so," Jarrod said. Then he saw Wally Miles and Jim Stevenson sitting on the front row across the aisle.

Miles and Stevenson would not be allowed to testify or make a statement, but Dr. Merar, acting as coroner, would know they were there and why. Jarrod sat back in his chair and mentally prepared himself for whatever was going to come out of this.

The proceedings began. Sheriff Madden testified about the two men he had killed and about seeing how Jarrod had killed the other five. He testified how all of the men who were shot had been shooting recklessly in the city street and how neither he nor Jarrod had any choice but to return fire. Then Jarrod testified.

He described how it happened from his point of view, and then all he said was what he had told Nick he would say: "The bullets were flying and I had to stop them fast. I called on those men to stop shooting, but they wouldn't do it. I had to stop them before anybody else was hurt."

The words were true, but they turned Jarrod's stomach anyway. Just the thought of having killed five men was still tying knots inside him. He knew right then and there that it would probably always be so. He struggled to get his concentration back, because Dr. Merar was beginning to ask more questions.

Afterward, Jarrod didn't even remember what they were. He did pay attention when other witnesses were called, and it eased his mind when they backed up his testimony completely. Jarrod hadn't had any choice but to fire back when the men he killed fired at him. No one who testified had any doubt about that.

Jarrod was a little surprised when Dr, Merar wrapped things up and actually rendered his decision as quickly as he did. Justifiable homicide. End of the issue.

Jarrod got up and left with the sheriff. As they got out into the street, they noticed that the regular townspeople who had been there earlier were gone. The people who were left were men, and they looked angry.

"Stevenson and Miles men," Sheriff Madden said quietly. "Jarrod, we better get you out of here."

"You're not exactly off the target either, Fred," Jarrod said.

"But I'm the sheriff. Nobody's gonna come after me."

"Nobody's gonna come after me, either," Jarrod said, although he wasn't entirely sure that was true. "I'm heading home, Fred. I'll see you in a few days."

As Jarrod went down to his horse, Dr. Merar came out of the courthouse. He had heard the last of the sheriff's conversation with Jarrod and said to Sheriff Madden, "I hope he doesn't end up seeing me a lot sooner."

The men in the street didn't move aside fast, but as Jarrod eyed them, straight and calm, they did move. Jarrod mounted his horse and rode out of town as slowly and calmly as he had ridden in.

Once out of town, he picked up speed a little, and he tensed up. He knew at any moment he could be shot out of the saddle, but he kept his breathing even and easy and prepared himself for whatever was going to happen.

He expected a lot of men blocking the road, but he wasn't prepared to meet Wally Miles and Jim Stevenson, alone in the road. That didn't make any sense. How did they get ahead of him? They must have ridden out of town a lot faster than he did, but then he would have seen them or at least heard the horses, because it seemed likely their men were around here somewhere too and they would have made a lot of noise. Confused, guessing that he had just been too preoccupied to hear them riding out of town ahead of him, Jarrod just stopped and stared at Miles and Stevenson.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

"I'm not armed, gentlemen," Jarrod said.

"We know," Wally Miles said.

Jarrod stared hard at Miles and Stevenson blocking the road, wondering how many more men there were around them that he couldn't see. There were rocks and a grove of trees that could hide several men. Not that it mattered. He was going to have to figure his way out of this alone and unarmed, which was what he wanted when he told the family he was going to the inquest alone. What was happening here was happening on his terms.

His nervousness and fear were disappearing and calm resolve was taking their place. The words came to him out of that hidden store that often came to his rescue when he was backed up against the wall in court.

"Wally, you've known me since the day I was born," Jarrod said. "Jim, you've known me nearly as long."

"Which makes it even harder to believe you did what you did," Jim Stevenson said.

"I didn't know those were your men," Jarrod said. "I didn't know who they were. I only knew they were shooting up the street and they wouldn't stop despite me and the sheriff both calling to them to stop. The sheriff was down and innocent people were going to get hurt if I didn't do something. There was no time to do anything but shoot back. I'm sorry, but that's the way it was. Now, let me go on my way."

"You should have brought some protection with you, Jarrod," Wally Miles said.

Jarrod shook his head. "I don't need it. Neither of you wants to kill me. You don't even want to slug me again, Jim, but you're welcome to try it if you do want to. You know this is over and done. It's time to let it go."

Miles and Stevenson dismounted. Miles said, "Get down off the horse, Jarrod."

Jarrod began to tremble, more inside than outside, but he dismounted and stood his ground. The two older men in front of him scared him, but he found himself feeling more pity than fear. "Take your swings at me if it'll help you," Jarrod said. "I'll take a few before I dish any out. But it won't change a thing. I know I did the right thing the other night, but I still killed five men, and I have to take that knowledge to my grave – just like Mother has to take the knowledge that she killed Evan to her grave, Wally, and you know it burns her every day. Just like knowing I killed five men will burn me every day. That's the only satisfaction I can offer you. That's the only satisfaction I can offer the families of those five men. I burn because of this. I'll always burn because of this."

They looked at Jarrod. They almost seemed amazed he'd said what he said. They looked at each other for long seconds before Wally Miles remounted. When he saw Miles do that, Jim Stevenson remounted, too. They looked long and hard at Jarrod, but then they rode away without another word.

Jarrod heard more than two horses leaving, though he never saw the rest, not that he was really looking. The sounds of the horses died away, and he was left alone, standing in the middle of the road. Only a few songbirds broke the silence that left Jarrod thinking about what he had just said to Miles and Stevenson.

It was the truth. Knowing he'd killed those five men would burn him every day for the rest of his life, and he'd go to his grave with it. But he knew he would carry it. The tidal wave of guilt was slipping away without sweeping him away with it. He could and would live with all of this.

He remounted and rode out.

In about 45 minutes, Jarrod rode up to his home and gave his horse off to Ciego, thanking him. He went inside and took his hat to the pegs in the hall to hang it up. His gun was there. He looked at it hard, but then hung his hat on the same peg and covered it up.

When he turned, he found that he had completely missed the fact that his mother, his sister and his brothers were all in the living room waiting for him. He wandered in there. They were already standing to greet him, their expressions full of concern.

"It's over?" Victoria asked.

Jarrod nodded. "It's over. Justifiable homicide."

"Did you get any grief from Miles or Stevenson?" Nick asked.

Jarrod nodded. "A little, but that's done too, I think. I think we've come to an understanding."

Audra gave a big sigh of relief. "We've been worried sick."

"And we nearly came after you anyway," Heath admitted. "You're sure you're all right?"

Jarrod nodded. "I am. I can carry what I need to carry. It'll be all right."

Victoria got up, came to him and put her arms around him. Jarrod smiled as she did and kissed her cheek. "You're not going back into town anytime soon, are you?" she asked.

"Not for a few days," Jarrod said. "Thought I'd let things there cool off a bit and take a little vacation."

"Silas has lunch waiting for us," Victoria said. "You can tell us all about your plans."

"Nothing major," Jarrod said as they all headed for the dining room together. "Just some fishing up at the lodge."

"Too bad we can't join you," Nick said. "Heath and I have to head toward Modesto for some breeding stock we've had our eye on."

"Just as well, Nick," Jarrod said. "I could use some time alone, and you burn the fish every time you try to cook it."

"Don't you go spreading vicious rumors, Pappy," Nick warned.

"Not a rumor, Nick. He's got a good witness," Heath said.

Victoria still gave Jarrod a worried look as they lagged behind going into the dining room. Jarrod gave her a squeeze. "It's all right, Mother," he said. "It'll always hurt me, but there won't be any more drinking in the garden or middle of the night rides out into the country."

Victoria sighed. "Good. I told the boys that the next time you took off like that, I'd come after you myself and turn you over my knee. And you're far too big for me to do that."

Jarrod chuckled. "You'd try it, though."

Victoria smiled. "Yes, I would."

The End


End file.
